Unanswered Calls

It is Friday, and this is not where I want to be right now. Sitting on this fold-up chair, in this air-conditioned classroom, is not where I want to be right now. I’d like to be standing in an open courtyard. I’d like to have my hands folded over my abdomen and my head tilted down. I’d like to be lost in a sea of other worshippers on all sides of me. I’d like to be answering the call.
I’ve heard the melody of the Adhan countless times now in India. Despite the familiarity of the call, indeed it is a sound I have heard all my life, it has strangely begun to evoke unfamiliar feelings in me. In India, in this new and foreign context, the call to prayer has taken on a new meaning.

This new meaning is largely centered around one of the reasons I’m not in lost in that sea of worshippers right now.

Most mosques in India don’t allow women inside.

Most mosques in India don’t allow women inside.

I can’t get past it. My mind keeps reverting back to that statement.

Most mosques in India don’t allow women inside.

Yesterday, when I stepped outside our classroom to pray in the hallway, a woman came up to me and brought me into a room where five other women sat and sewed clothing. She pointed to an area on the floor that they had cleared, made the gesture for praying, and turned my body towards Mecca so I would know in which direction to offer my prayers. I was touched. These women had seen me praying in the hallway the day before and decided to bring me into their space, so that I could worship with greater dignity.

After I had completed my prayer, I stood to go while thanking them, but they stopped me and murmured something in Hindi. I made a confused face and said sorry. The women struggled to come up with the words in English. Until one of them said:

“Everyday, you pray here.”

I don’t even know their names. They don’t know who I am. I’m fairly certain they are not Muslim either. And yet they saw I needed a place of worship and they offered it to me.

I’m not ready to work through this inner conflict, but I do know that the kindness those women showed me will stay with me forever. I was incredibly touched by their show of generosity and humanity. I am a stranger to them, and yet they reached out with open hands and brought me in. At least for a moment, I forgot that most mosques in India don’t allow women inside.

But I guess, for now, I don’t need a mosque to answer the call.

God is greatest. God is greatest. God is greatest. God is greatest.
I bear witness that there is no god but God. I bear witness that there is no god but God.
I bear witness that Muhammad (pbuh) is the messenger of God. I bear witness that Muhammad (pbuh) is the messenger of God.
Hasten to the prayer. Hasten to the prayer.
Hasten to success. Hasten to success.
God is greatest.